


Different

by TheRoarOfAtlas



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, Porn with Feelings, reader has female body parts, reader is a wrestling fan, smut at the end, to complete the triumvirate I suppose, too much plot with my porn as always, welcome back to hell, werewolf!Dean Ambrose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-13 23:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7990801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoarOfAtlas/pseuds/TheRoarOfAtlas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's been running from this for a very long time...</p>
<p>(This one has been in the works for quite a while. Influenced heavily by tumblr user culturalrebel's AMAZING headcanon.)</p>
<p>Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Different

**Author's Note:**

> [[!TRIGGER WARNING!: For descriptions of paternal abuse.]]

Dean had realized something was wrong at a very young age. His parents...didn't act like the other parents he saw. Alpha yelled a lot, banged things around and generally had a large presence. The other was quiet, so quiet.

 

Normal kids got to call their parents things like ' _Dad_ ' and ' _Mom_ '. Alpha said that was ' _pussy bullshit_ ' and had boxed his son's ears hard enough to make them throb when Dean had brought it up one day. “ _You're my whelp, aren't you? I made you with Bitch, didn't I? That makes me your alpha. That's all you need to worry about, runt._ ” he'd grumbled.

 

Dean couldn't help the flinch that ran through him every time Alpha called his mother ' _Bitch_ '. It was such a  _bad_ word. His mother always said that bad words are meant for bad things, but Dean didn't understand how  _she_ could be bad. 

 

She kept him fed and made sure he always had clean clothes. She doted on him when Alpha wasn't around, brushing his tangled hair back into some semblance of order. Sometimes when Alpha worked late, she would sing Dean to sleep. She made him promise to only call her ' _Mom_ ' if Alpha wasn't there to hear it.

 

Dean could still remember shaking in his bed when they fought after he had been tucked in, Alpha roaring terrible words at his mother. Alpha would always end the arguments with something about wanting “ _another whelp, an_ _**alpha** _ _ one this time, Bitch! _ ” 

 

Dean learned that he should fear the silence more than the outbursts. Because that either meant Alpha was thinking, or  _ doing _ something. That  _ thing _ that always made his mother whimper and cry, whatever it was. Thinking about it made his stomach hurt. He hated hearing her cry more than anything.

 

Alpha wanted more, wanted more brothers and sisters for Dean. Ones that were bigger and stronger than him, from what he could gather. He was apparently a disappointment, all legs and not much else.

 

“ _He's no fuckin' alpha, that's for sure! You know how embarrassing it is for me to sire a runt like that? Dammit, Bitch!_ ”

 

...

 

It all had come to a head, one hot night in July.

 

Dean vividly remembered most of it. He had turned fourteen the previous December and shot up like a weed. Still rail thin, but almost as tall as Alpha now. Since his growth spurts started he felt an incessant urge to pick a fight with Alpha, gritting his teeth every time the older man drew near. Their arguments were turning more physical, Dean getting bolder and louder to match Alpha. All too often Dean's mother would get between them, crying and begging them to stop. And if Alpha knocked her aside Dean would lunge bodily at him, only to get beaten down himself.

 

The scents started turning up more and more. Soon Dean could tell when Alpha was in the hallway, whole  _ minutes _ before he unlocked the apartment door. He smelled like  _ rotten _ and  _ hurt _ and  _ male _ . He stank, to put it mildly.

 

Dean's mother smelled like  _ apology _ and  _ sad _ . Always. When Dean had first noticed her smell it made his chest feel tight, and he'd hugged her without fully realizing why. 

 

He wondered sometimes what her real name was, whether she had one, where the rest of her family was. He wasn't even sure if she  _ had _ a family. They were never spoken of if she did. 

 

Dean started to realize that getting his mother away from Alpha  _ needed _ to be made a priority, before Alpha forced her to try and make more 'pups'. Dean was only home for the aftermath of one miscarriage, and that was more than enough. His mother hadn't stopped crying for hours and Dean had just held her, dry-eyed and furious. It was heart-wrenching, and he'd vowed that she would never have to go through it again.

 

Today was the day Dean had planned for their escape, but everything was going  _ wrong _ . Alpha had called in sick, for starters. Apparently he had a migraine and needed sleep to fix it. Dean tried to convince his mother to leave while Alpha was sleeping, but she just smiled sadly up at him and shook her head.

 

“ _He'll catch me, sweetheart. I don't want you to get hurt._ ”

 

Now though, Alpha was awake and he was just getting worse as the moon rose. He was pacing in the kitchen, muttering to himself and snarling wildly whenever Dean or his mother tried to leave the room. “ _ I've been nothing but decent to you this whole time! _ ” he finally erupted, making Dean flinch in his rickety chair. “ _ A little runt like you, I ought to have drowned your ass! But Bitch wouldn't let me. So I worked my ass off to feed you, clothe you, raise you and here you fuckin' are now,  _ _**keeping secrets from me** _ _. _ ” 

 

Alpha slammed his hands down on the table and shook a fist in Dean's face. “ _ I could whip your ass until you're nothing but a stain on the floor, you little shit! I hold back because for  _ _**some** _ _ fuckin' reason, Bitch loves you. _ ”

 

“ _Pro'lly because I'm her son._ ” Dean drawled, getting to his feet. Alpha shoved him back into his chair and grunted angrily when Dean just stood again. 

 

“ _I know you're hiding something! I can smell it, you runt_ _ **fuck**_ _. You can either tell me, or I'll beat it out of Bitch. What will it be?_ ” Alpha asked. Dean clenched his fists at the way Alpha gestured lazily towards his mother. She shook her head at Dean, her eyes pleading him to stop. 

 

Dean's skin prickled oddly down his arms, but he ignored it for the time being in favor of growling low in his throat at Alpha. Alpha wrinkled his nose, seeming annoyed. “ _ Just as stupid as Bitch, I see. Have it your way, whelp _ .” 

 

He raised his hand and cracked it down across Dean's mother's face. She took the blow in silence, having dealt with much worse throughout the years.

 

Dean yelled in outrage, scrambling in front of her before Alpha could hit her a second time. He stood as tall as he could, splaying his legs a little make himself look larger. “ _You touch her again and_ _I_ _ **will**_ _make you fucking regret it, I swear to God!_ ” he shouted in Alpha's face, fists up and ready. 

 

Alpha shouldered Dean aside, knocking him over and slamming his head into the floor. Something crunched loudly in his ears and Dean heard his mother scream. That weird prickle shivered through his body again, stronger this time. Like being jabbed with a thousand pins all at once, like the growing pains he still got sometimes. Dean groaned, reaching for a chair to pull himself back up.

 

Alpha's boot came down on his hand, crushing his fingers.

 

Dean's whole body felt like it was on fire; everything was in a haze and something was  _ wrong _ . He could taste copper. Why was he on the floor? What had happened? The side of his head was sticky for some reason. Dean touched the spot gingerly and his shaking fingers came back drenched in red. He rolled onto his back in time to watch Alpha's fist connect with his mother's stomach.

 

Dean wasn't sure what he did after that. He had nightmares about it sometimes, squaring off with the enormous gray wolf that was Alpha.  _ Snapping _ and  _ snarling _ and  _ clawing _ and  _ screaming _ and  _ tearing _ and  _ no more no more  _ _**Dean!** _

 

His mother had dragged him back to himself what felt like  _ days _ later, a washcloth gently cleaning the bite wounds from Alpha that matted Dean's tawny brown fur. He had whined, confused and scared at his new form. 

 

His mother had explained it as best as she could while she tended to him. Alpha had apparently run off, bleeding badly and yelping with every step. Dean had been sick with relief when he realized that he'd rid them of Alpha, alternating between retching and whimpering. His mother had silently held him once he'd finally turned back, letting him cry into her shoulder and stroking his hair like he was small again.

 

“ _W-what if I'm l-l-like him, M-Mom?_ ” Dean finally sobbed, “ _wh-what if all I'm g-g-good for is hurtin' p-people?_ ”

 

She smiled at him. A  _ real _ smile. Dean had been stunned silent except for his hiccups.

 

“ _Dean...my brave, beautiful son. You've proved time and time again that you're good for_ _ **so much more**_ _than that._ ” She kissed him on the forehead. “ _We've already been put through the wringer, sweetheart. Whatever the world has left, I'm sure you can take it in stride_.”

 

…

 

Dean had gotten into the wrestling as a way to earn money and maybe blow off some of the steam his shit excuse for a childhood had built up. It was quickly obvious, however, that he was _pretty fucking good_ for not having been 'trained'. He could take a beating and brawl with a _lot_ of guys older and more experienced than he was, putting on stunning spots night after night.

 

He figured if he took the abuse, took the blood and sweat and guts, maybe someday his mom could quit her shitty job. Maybe someday he could move her out of that shitty apartment. Shit, twenty year old Dean Ambrose _dreamed_ of a paid-off mortgage and enough food in the fridge to fill both their stomachs.

 

When Dragon Gate came a-callin' though, he was skeptical. The offer seemed good. A little _too_ good, if he was honest. And it wasn't exactly like he was an _expert_ on goddamn Japanese culture, never mind the fact that it would take him away from his mother. Dean almost didn't bring it up with her. She didn't like his fighting, but appreciated what he was doing nonetheless. She would tell him to go, not to worry about her.

 

He was twenty-three when he first scented you. The match felt like it had lasted for a lifetime, both Dean and the giant _fucker_ he was fighting covered in blood from the barbed wire 'ropes'. Ambrose had gone to swing and stopped dead, mid-motion. His nose twitched, a smell that made him feel _safe_ and _whole_ and _good_ slamming into his brain with enough speed to give him mental whiplash.

 

He stood there, stunned. The faint flicker of elation from the animal gave way to total panic from the man. Dean knew what this meant. He had absorbed as much information as he could from his mother...when she could talk about it, that is. Despite her reassurances however, he could only see himself as the villain in this situation.

 

Ambrose absently ducked the fist that swung at him, dropping down and rolling under the barbed wire to leave the ring. He waved his hand awkwardly in front of his face, trying to maintain his focus when every nerve in his body was screaming _there there mate go there!_ He was tired, he was sore, he _did not_ have time for this.

 

“Ambrose! _Get_ your _ass--!_ ”

 

Dean slapped a hand into the middle of the promoter's chest, stopping his words with the resounding smack. “I'm _leaving_.” was all he growled before picking up his hoodie and heading out.

 

Dragon Gate would keep him mobile. Keep _whoever you were_ safe from him. He could only hope the stint would be long enough to make you forget. Hope that you weren't an actual fan. That you were just someone who got dragged to the show by your fun-loving buddies.

 

_Yeah. Hopefully._

 

…

 

The screaming emptiness in his chest would fade to an ache as the months went by. Dean tried to convince himself that it had been nothing but his mind playing tricks on him. Nothing but some hokey bullshit that he wanted so  _badly_ to believe in because clearly, he was just as fucked up as his father. 

 

There was no  _way_ this mate stuff could be a real thing. Normal people didn't have this issue. 'Soulmates' and all that crap were just regular people,  _wishing_ to not be alone anymore. Praying to whoever or whatever to take their loneliness away and latching on to the next person that gave them the time of day as ' _the answer to their prayers!_ '. 

 

That's what he told himself, anyway.

 

_Hokey bullshit._

 

On the days that he shifted though, it was a different story. He was frantic, howling loud enough to wake the dead and searching relentlessly for his mate. When one with the beast, Dean felt nothing but urgency and fear. A great and terrible freedom from his human body; he was stronger, faster,  _smarter_ . When he was a wolf, Dean  _knew_ he would never feel right without you. He knew it as solidly as he knew that the sky was blue.

 

Yet when he would come to his senses at daybreak, exhausted and naked, he was always more than ready to start the cycle of forgetting over again. Because the wolf was nothing but instinct. Of course that's what it would want. That half of Dean clearly didn't understand what a fucking  _menace_ he was, even without the fur and teeth. He was Alpha-size now, strong and angry and fucked-up and  _more_ than able to cause someone pain. 

 

That's what he told himself, anyway.

 

Late at night though, with his hand down his boxers and his teeth dug into his knuckles he would stroke himself to the soft memory of the  _good_ that came from your scent. Sometimes to his utter shame he had crying jags afterwards, the unfamiliar emotions a little too much to take when he rolled his hips to the idea of you on top of him or beneath him and your smell surrounding him. 

 

_Maybe you would fix me. Maybe you would be tender with me. Maybe I wouldn't fucking ruin you like Alpha did with to Mom._

 

_And maybe I'm fucking lying through my teeth so I can hurt you_ .

 

…

 

Meeting Roman Reigns was like the beginning of the end for Dean's iron resolve. The  _male_ scent from him was enough to make Dean's head spin and his shoulders went rigid, ready for a face-off. Roman had smiled warmly, stretching out a hand.

 

“ _Hey. I'm Roman. You must be Dean. I think it's pretty badass that they're putting us together. You're kind of a legend in the indie circuit._ ”

 

He didn't smell like  _rotten_ . He didn't smell like  _hurt_ . Roman smelled like  _safe_ and  _nervous_ and  _male_ . Dean's brow furrowed, and he slowly reached his own hand towards Reigns. “ _Roman, huh? Quite the name_ .”

 

The  _nervous_ smoothed out into  _calm_ . Dean decided he liked Roman, even if he  _was_ an alpha. He didn't seem like Alpha at all. 

 

Eventually Reigns came forward about his... _condition_ (not that he'd had a choice, he accidentally turned in the middle of a post-show shower and came running out to shake water all over a hysterically-laughing Dean), and the two of them formed a brother-like bond over their shared situation. 

 

Dean never asked Roman whether he smelled like alpha to him. He figured that regardless of how close they got, it was probably overstepping his boundaries to ask a legitimate, tried and true alpha whether he had the same smell. It was bad enough that he was constantly sniffing around Reigns' mate when they first met, trying to make sure that nothing shady was going on.

 

They seemed ridiculously content with one another though, always making each other laugh and smile. Dean was...more than a little jealous.

 

…

 

Now here was Dean, all these proud, strong, brave years later, vomiting his guts out in an arena bathroom while Roman rubbed his back.

 

“It'll be alright, Uce.” Roman said in an attempt to soothe his friend.

 

“Like _fuck_ it will!” Dean snapped, wiping his mouth and settling blearily back onto his haunches. “Like fucking _fuck_ it will, Reigns. I'm screwed. I'm so fucking screwed, I might as well go get a Phillips-head and wedge myself in a little deeper.”

 

“Look, I know your dad did some bad shit to your mom--” Reigns began.

 

“Understatement of the _fucking century Reigns!_ ” Dean yelled. “I _can't_ go out there man! Not knowing that my mate is somewhere in that fucking crowd; if I make eye contact I'll _know_ and that will be _it!_ Fucking _over!_ ”

 

“Alright, Jesus! Your dad did some fucking _awful_ , batshit insane alpha bullshit! That doesn't mean you're gonna' do the same thing!” Roman exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “Fuck's sake Dean, you never laid a finger on anybody outside the ring that didn't deserve it. I doubt you'll start up now.” he pointed out.

 

Dean rubbed his eyes, resting his head against the sink and fighting back angry tears. He couldn't handle this shit.

 

Roman sighed heavily. “They'll be your _mate_ , Dean. When I met mine, I wanted to _protect_ them and cherish them from the fucking first second I scented them. When Baron met _his_ , it was the same way. I know...I know what happened to you has made you leery of this, but you have to understand that we're not all like that. Nobody, least of all me, gives a damn whether you're 'real alpha' or not. Your mate sure as shit ain't gonna' care.” Roman shrugged. “And really, who's to say what 'real alpha' even fucking is anymore. It's just elitist bullshit from the purebies.”

 

“Easy for you to say.” Dean grumbled, gesturing upwards at Roman's hulking form.

 

Reigns laughed, catching Dean's hand and pulling him to his feet. “True. I've gotten no complaints.” he said with a wink, making Ambrose snort out a chuckle. “Seriously though, Uce. You're all wound up about this shit and I get that you're _worried_ , but you don't have to be. You know that _I'm_ an alpha. When was the last time you saw me square off for something that wasn't work? Does my mate seem scared of me? I mean yeah, we can hide that shit, but I feel like you of _all_ people would notice something wrong. Especially something like that.”

 

Dean huffed out a breath. “I know, Reigns. You're the only alpha I know, though. Baron I guess, but I don't really _know_ him.”

 

“I hear you, Uce. Just...give it some thought, okay? You don't _have_ to deal with all this 'sins-of-the-father' bullshit.” Roman reassured him, tugging him in to knock their foreheads together. “You're not that guy, man. You're not your dad. You told me he smelled bad, rotten, like hot garbage and stale clothes.” Reigns' eyes searched Dean's. The other man looked away. “You wanna' know what you smell like to _me_ , Uce?”

 

_Yes yes yes yes yes yes YES YES YES Y_ \--

 

“Uh, it's not that important to me, man.” Dean tried to duck out of Roman's grip, tried to shake free of what appeared to be Daniel Bryan's fucking Rockettes _kick-line_ in his skull, but Reigns held fast.

 

“I think it is. And I'm gonna' tell you. I'll only say it once. I know this shit makes you uncomfortable.” Roman pressed his forehead back to Ambrose's. “You, to me anyway, smell like _partner_ and _scared_. Right now. But...” He trailed off, closing his eyes and inhaling again, “there's something else. I know it's _strong_ as fuck sometimes, Dean. It's the strongest when you fight. I'm...I want to say it's alpha smell, but I don't have the greatest nose.”

 

“It's probably the crazy.” Dean jibed, wincing when Roman glared at him.

 

“I'm _serious_ , Ambrose. Come the fuck on. I know you're frantic about this shit, don't make light of it.” Roman scolded.

 

“I think I need to puke again.” Ambrose said shakily, pushing Reigns away and flopping back over onto the toilet. “Ugh...maybe that mystery smell is my nerves.” he groaned, making Roman roll his eyes.

 

“C'mon, drama queen. Time to face the music. Get your sorry ass up, get out there and put on a hell of a show.” He caught Dean's chin and held onto it for a second. “Get out there and make whoever it is fucking _wild_ for you, man. I know you can do it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

You had been waiting for this for months. Your first _ever_ WWE show, and a Money In The Bank pay-per-view, no less! You'd saved and planned, crossing the days off on your calendar and becoming more and more excited as the weeks ticked down.

 

You spared no expense when you bought your ticket, figuring it was more than worth it to be so close to the ring. You used to go to independent shows when you were younger, but working full time made it difficult to keep up attendance. After so many years out of the loop, you decided to go all in for once.

 

And _Ambrose_ was going to be there! You vividly remembered him from the times you saw him back in the indies, how attractive he was when he was covered in blood and hollering curses at his opponents. It was amazing how far he'd come as a wrestler. You felt strangely proud of him.

 

When you got to the arena, parking was filling up  _fast_ . People milled around outside, the line already out the door for the show. The excitement in the air was tangible and it wasn't difficult to find things to talk about with your fellow fans, soon arguing the benefits of a good manager coupled with good promos and wondering whether CM Punk would ever return.

 

As you settled into your seat, able to touch the padded barricade with your outstretched hand, you squealed quietly to yourself in delight.  _I'm here! I'm really here!_

 

…

 

When Ambrose slammed into the barricade in front of you during the ladder match, you were instantly on your feet (with the numerous people around you) screaming for him to _get up_ _get up c'mon Dean!_ He shook his head, looking more than a little rattled as he slowly stood. Then, his eyes locked with yours. Dean froze, his fingers white-knuckling the barricade. 

 

You stared back, confused. Had you said something wrong? Shit, maybe you'd accidentally grabbed him without realizing it. “I'm sor--” you started to apologize over the noise of the Universe, feeling your face go bright red.

 

“Later.” he grunted, so low you barely heard it. Dean cracked his neck and scrambled back into the ring to continue the brawl while you cheered him on.

 

…

 

Reigns versus Rollins was  _murder_ to watch; you were on the edge of your seat the whole time. Both men fighting back and forth with such tenacity, throwing seldom-used moves at one another with skill and fury. 

 

Rollins landing that last Pedigree was what did it. The match was over. You barely had time for your disappointed sigh however, before Ambrose's music blared to life again and he was clubbing Rollins across the back of the skull with his shiny new briefcase. “ _I'm cashin' in, ref!_ ” Ambrose roared, hooking his arms under Rollins' shoulders the second the bell rang to signal the start of the match.

 

Dirty Deeds stuck like glue, and you found yourself jumping up and down in glee as Dean hoisted his new belt over his head. He pointed at you and mouthed “ _for you_ ” with a grin, making you blush and wonder what you'd done to get his favor. With your heart in your throat you watched him roll out of the ring and saunter over to your area of the barricade, tapping fists and posing for pictures along the way.

 

“Well darlin'? How'd you like the show?” he asked, leaning against the black padding and giving you a wink that turned your brain to mush.

 

“ _Wow!_ ” you said, quickly covering your mouth and feeling like an idiot for your lame answer. 

 

Ambrose laughed though, catching your hand and pressing it to his lips for a second. “Meet me backstage, yeah? What's your name, I'll let 'em know you're comin'.”

 

…

 

_Oh he could play the smooth, debonair bad boy all he wanted. But at the end of the day he was flat-out terrified. His hands hadn't stopped shaking since he'd hit that barricade for the first time, since he'd gotten to his feet and made eye contact with you._

 

_He thought he was going to either rip a chunk out of the padding or pop the **meanest** fucking boner the Universe had ever seen. You were so excited, shit you might have even been turned on. You smelled like **mate** and **good** and **YES!** Dean was almost certain his mouth had started watering._

 

_ Roman's eyes had gone the size of dinner plates when Dean came back with the briefcase. “ _ Holy shit Uce. I take it you found them? _ ” _

 

“You bet your ass I did. _” Ambrose snarled, coming over to grip Roman in a furious, one-armed hug. “_ Wish me luck tonight, okay Big Dog? I've got a plan. _”_

 

_ His plan struck him as pretty stupid when he was sitting in his dressing room with the title over his shoulder, pacing back and forth in the tiny space. But there was no turning back. He'd already asked you to meet him, and this was definitely a now or never scenario. Dean just hoped with every fiber of his being that he was ready...that he could prove to  **himself** that he wasn't his father's son. _

 

…

 

None other than an overly sweaty and grinning Roman Reigns caught your arm backstage, and his greeting of “it's great to finally meet you!” had you squinting up at him in confusion. Nevertheless, you allowed the hug.

 

“What do you mean, 'finally'?” you asked.

 

Roman sucked in a breath, looking a bit like a kid that had been caught in a lie. “Uh, I mean...Dean said something about you when he came back here from his first match. Guess you got his attention.”

 

“I'll say! I'm not dressed to meet royalty though.” you joked, gesturing down at your casual outfit.

 

“I doubt he'll mind. The crazy bastard wrestles in _jeans_ after all.” Reigns pointed out as he escorted you to Dean's dressing room. “Do me a favor, please?” he requested softly, taking both your hands in his own. “Just listen to what he has to say. I know a lot of it will sound nuts. But...please listen.”

 

You nodded, raising an eyebrow when he turned and walked away. _I forgot how_ _ **weird**_ _wrestlers could be_.

 

You knocked on the door, surprised when Ambrose opened it and ushered you into the small dressing room. You'd been worried you were being pranked, but he seemed very serious as he propped his hip against the small table across from the couch you were sitting on.

 

“If you could kiss me right now, would you?” Dean asked abruptly, making you sputter in surprise.

 

“Um?”

 

“Would you?” he repeated, his brow furrowing. “More importantly, would you tell me if you _didn't_ want to kiss me? Would you set boundaries for things that make you uncomfortable, or scare you? And would you expect me to follow those boundaries?”

 

“Mr. Ambrose-?” you began tentatively, startled by his groan a second later.

 

“ _Jesus_ fuck.” Dean shook his head. “Don't call me that. That's my old man's name.” His face went hard for a minute. You got the feeling there may be some bad blood between him and his father. “I just want to know ahead of time, hun. I know you're not gonna' understand a lot of this, and I know it'll sound like fucking bullshit.”

 

“Uh, I suppose it would depend on the situation? I'm not entirely sure what the context of this is, so bear with me if I'm a little vague. Do you mean all the time or just in...intimate areas?” You couldn't believe this conversation was happening. Clearly Roman had been trying to prepare you for this. You decided to try and keep an open mind.

 

Dean shrugged. “Either. Both. Whatever you feel like answering.”

 

“Why are you asking me this, Dean?” you questioned instead. Ambrose's fingers gripped the table beside him tightly and he fidgeted with the belt over his shoulder.

 

“Growing up, I watched my old man put my mother through a lot of unnecessarily cruel shit. I don't...I _won't_ be like him if I can help it. That's why I want to know, okay? I've been puttin' this off for a really long time, darlin'. Long enough to think a hole in the floor over it.”

 

“Been putting _what_ off?”

 

“This. You. Us.” He gestured at you. “I know you're not going to understand, okay? But I'm...I'm _supposed_ to be with you. I want to be as up front with you as possible about this. It's not something I have much control over.”

 

“You and me?” you asked, bewildered. “I'm just _me_ , Dean, not anything exciting. Why...?”

 

“I told you, hun. I don't have a lot of say in this. Even if I did though, I would probably still have picked you. I know you're not a bad person. I _also_ know that watching me kick ass was apparently an exciting experience for you.”

 

You blushed, unconsciously pressing your thighs together when he moved to drape his title over the table and crouch in front of you. “Just...at least think about maybe going on a date with me, alright? It doesn't have to be right away. Shit, it can be in six months if you want. I know this is a lot to take in, and I know I'm probably not helping.” Dean rested his cheek on your knee, looking up at you hopefully. “I can give you my contact info. I'm uh. Not too great at cell phones yet though, so you'll have to be patient with me if you text. We can talk and it won't be so much pressure on you, yeah?”

 

You were touched by the level of thought he seemed to have put into this. He was clearly worried about forcing you into a situation you didn't want to be in, his brow furrowed while he waited on your answer.

 

“I think that would be alright. I mean, I _would_ like to get to know you a little better before agreeing to this. No offense or anything! I'd just hate to rush into something and regret it later, you know?” you explained, somewhat surprised at how relieved Dean looked. At least he didn't look disappointed.

 

…

 

You rolled over to grab your phone off the nightstand when it pinged, rubbing your eyes and squinting against the bright light of the screen.

 

- _how your day go darlin? Sorry to text so late probably woke you_

 

You smiled at your phone, knowing you probably looked like an idiot.

 

- _My day went alright. Work was tough, but nothing I haven't handled before. How did your night go?_

 

- _retained naturally. Having R o text for me; my turn to drive_

 

- _Hi Roman!_

 

It had been about two months since the pay-per-view. You and Dean texted back and forth whenever you could, it seemed, and you had finally planned a weekend get-together for tomorrow. Just the two of you. To say you were excited would be an understatement.

 

- _Get here safe, okay Dean?_

 

- _when am I anything but safe?_

 

You laughed at that, picturing Roman wryly typing out the message while shaking his head.

 

- _Of course, how silly of me to doubt you_. _I'll see you tomorrow, okay?_

 

- _you got it hun. Sleep good._

 

You woke up when the sun was just beginning to rise, giving a quiet, thrilled squeak. “Today's the day!” you said aloud, flinging back your blankets and heading to the kitchen to make coffee. You sat at your small table while it brewed, a few lists laid out in front of you. You still needed to go food shopping, and vacuuming was a _top_ priority. Never mind the fact that the sheets had to be changed.

 

You had your work cut out for you, no mistake about that. But after you got coffee and your breakfast you dove right in, confident in your ability to create a comfortable environment for the hardworking superstar you hoped to call your boyfriend.

 

You had decided about two weeks ago that yes, you would _very much_ like to date Dean Ambrose. The timing had just never been right to tell him, so you were planning on telling him today. The knowledge of your intent filled you with happy energy, allowing you to breeze through your few chores and then head out to restock your fridge with time to spare.

 

…

 

_Dean parked the rental in the driveway beside your car and heaved out a nervous breath. You wouldn't have invited him over for the weekend if you were scared of him, right? You could have easily ignored his texts, maybe changed your phone number or blocked his. Certainly wouldn't give him your address._

 

_Unless he was terrifying even from a distance. Shit, maybe this was a bad idea._

 

_You hadn't seemed reluctant, the few times he'd called and the multiple times you had texted back and forth. Shit, you seemed excited. You were the one who had suggested it to begin with. He just hoped it wasn't because you felt obligated to him for whatever reason._

 

_God fucking **dammit**._

 

_Being without you, after finally speaking with you face-to-face, had been agony. For both sides of him, if he was being honest. The one time he had shifted in the space of your separation, he'd spent most of the night howling at the moon. Because he had you, but he didn't. It was almost worse than not knowing where you were._

 

_Dean liked to pride himself on his toughness, but this mate stuff wasn't something that he could work out. His feelings left him fucking breathless sometimes, all torn up on the inside and nothing to show for it. He could only hope, hope with every fiber of his fucking being that maybe, just **maybe** you would accept him._

 

…

 

You greeted Dean at the door with a quick kiss, deciding to go all out with telling him how you felt. He looked stunned when you backed away, but quickly caught your hand and pulled you to him.

 

“What was that for?” he asked, dimples firmly in place as he smiled down at you.

 

“I missed you. I've been thinking about you a lot.” you said, watching his smile widen. “If your offer still stands, I'd like to take you up on it.”

 

“Holy shit, _really?_ ” Dean tugged your chin up for a kiss, a _real_ one this time. He nipped at your lower lip when the two of you parted, pressing his forehead to yours afterwards. “I won't lie, darlin'. I've thought about damn near nothing _except_ you since meeting you for real. This makes me...I don't think I've ever been this happy.” He looked suspiciously close to crying and you bit your lip, hugging him tightly.

 

“Come in and have some dinner, okay? You must be hungry. We can talk if you want? Iron out the details.”

 

Talking seemed to be the farthest thing from Dean's mind after the door shut behind him. He was instantly on you again, burying his face in your hair and running his hands over your body. “Feels amazing to touch you like this.” he admitted, “You smell so  _fucking_ good, hun.”

 

“Easy Dean.” you admonished softly, catching his hands in your own. “We'll have dinner. I can give you a tour of the place, if you'd like.”

 

“You settin' rules already? My kinda' gal.” Once again, Dean seemed relieved. “Whatever you want, hun. I'm yours.”

 

…

 

_He hadn't expected it to be this simple to respect your boundaries. The second you put your hands on him he knew he was a fucking goner. With the way Alpha had always been, Dean assumed that it was inherently difficult to accept someone else giving orders if they were...the way he was._

 

_But you took his hands off you and he didn't feel loss. It was more like a tempering, a gentling of his fevered motions. There was no need to rush. There was no need to paw and drag at you like you were a **thing** , like Alpha had done with his mother. There was only warmth in your touch, in the way your fingers laced through his own like an apology for taking yourself out of his grip. _

 

_You showed him the rest of your house, and he was thrilled inwardly when he noticed a lack of guest room or spare bed anywhere. The living room only had two overstuffed armchairs, and he hoped against hope that it meant you wanted him in the same bed with you. Even if you didn't let him touch you, it would still be a thousand times better than being alone._

 

_He'd never had a candlelit dinner with fucking **wine** and little fucking... **flowers** scattered across the table. You'd clearly put a lot of effort into the evening, with your fancy red and white checkered tablecloth and the napkins neatly folded next to the cutlery._

 

_He didn't really taste any of the food he ate. He mostly just sat with his chin in his hand, watching you talk and occasionally asking questions so you'd keep talking._

 

_God, you were perfect._

 

…

 

You were so happy that Dean seemed to be enjoying himself. There was nothing scary about him outside the ring, and you kind of wondered why he seemed so worried about boundaries and limits. He'd mentioned his mother and father, his father being the aggressor. But he didn't seem the type to get unnecessarily rough with someone outside of work, especially not someone he enjoyed the company of.

 

A blush rose on your face as you mentally debated whether you were the first person he'd ever seriously considered having a relationship with. You scolded yourself right afterwards though, for being so horrendously mushy. Dean was a grown man. There was no way he hadn't dated before.

 

“You look like you're trying to take a leaf out of my book and think a hole into something.” Dean teased, his blue eyes shining in the candlelight as he grinned at you. “If you have questions, I'll answer 'em as best I can. Lord knows I've gotten you to talk enough.”

 

“Oh! Um, I actually did want to ask you something. I don't know if you can answer it though.” you said doubtfully.

 

Dean leaned forward. “Try me.”

 

“You said that I'm...I guess kind of like your soulmate? You said that you were supposed to be with me. How do you know, though?” You toyed with your napkin in your lap, feeling embarrassed. “I'm sorry if that's a really personal question or something.”

 

“No no, not at all. I uh. It's a good question, hun. Little tough to answer without you having all the pieces of the puzzle.” Ambrose leaned back in his chair. “Fuck it, I'll give you the full shit show. It'll help you understand. But what I'm going to tell you doesn't leave this house, okay?” He took a deep breath, scrubbing his hands over the day-old stubble across his jaw.

 

“Hey, if it makes you uncomfortable--”

 

“I've run from this crap _and_ from you for way too long to worry about being uncomfortable. And it would be fucking dishonest to get in any deeper with you unless you knew the truth.”

 

…

 

_Dean hadn't realized how long he'd been talking until you poured him a glass of water. You'd just sat in silence the whole time, occasional sounds of disbelief or sadness the only things breaking it. He should probably chalk it up as a victory that you hadn't run screaming, that you were still sitting across from him._

 

_When it came time to talk about his running away, he winced. He'd been such a coward, so **stupid** to deny himself this. A coward with good intentions and entirely legitimate fears, but a coward nonetheless. _

 

_He talked about roaming the woods at night, about being lost without you and crying to the moon._

 

_He talked about meeting Roman and the easy companionship that had sprung up between them. But Reigns had his own pack to worry about, his cousins and his mate._

 

_He talked about realizing who you were, and how scared, yet at the same time overjoyed he'd been when he finally understood that he would never get you out of his head._

 

_He talked quite a lot, actually. Probably more than he ever had before._

 

…

 

You could tell from the sincerity in Dean's voice that he wasn't lying. As far-fetched as this all seemed, it was true. Your heart pounded in your chest as you realized what he was implying when he talked about you being his mate.

 

A lifetime bond, an understanding shared between the two of you. Plans for the future and repair for the missing piece in your life. He'd had such a terrible childhood, fought so hard and done so much to conquer his demons. Yet he was still scared of pushing too hard, practically begging for rules and limits to be set and swearing to never break them.

 

“You'd be my mate, yeah, but I'd also be yours. And with that comes the responsibility to do my best. To keep you safe and happy. Do all the things my old man never did for my mother. I'm not tryin' to live in the shadows of my past, hun, but the old fuck didn't exactly leave me a high bar to meet.” Dean explained, tapping his fingers nervously on his knee. “I just want to do everything that I can for you, because shit, being this close to you is its own reward.”

 

“I make you happy just by being around?” you asked, somewhat confused.

 

“You put off a scent. Everyone has their own unique smell, usually a combination of two to three different ones and then a _bunch_ of others beneath that. Yours most strongly is _good_. It makes me feel...I dunno'. Like I'm home. Like I just walked in the door of a super cliché, white-picket-fence kinda' house and you met me with a freshly-baked pie and a kiss on the cheek. I ain't saying I _want_ that shit, mind you. But that's what I think of.” He looked down, picking at a hole in the knee of his jeans. “It's so fucking corny when I say it out loud though.”

 

“Not at all!” you said firmly, getting up and walking around the table. You knelt in front of him, resting your face on his knee like he'd done to you months ago. “I'm glad that you've been honest with me. Thank you.”

 

Dean cupped your face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs across your cheeks. “God, you're so fucking beautiful.” he murmured, seeming almost in a daze. “Get up here so I can kiss you.”

 

You obliged, giggling when he pulled you into his lap and nuzzled his nose against your neck. His kiss was nothing to laugh about, though. All gentle nips and tongue, as well as an enthusiasm that left you both panting for breath. “How about I show you the bedroom?” you managed to get out, leaning up over him to blow out the candles on the table and luxuriating in the groan you received in reply. “Only if you want, that is.”

 

“Oh, I want.” he grunted, easily hoisting you over his shoulder and standing. His hand patted your ass in an almost fond gesture while you squeaked in surprise. “Shh, just think of me as your noble steed.”

 

“Noble steed, my ass! Why are you--”

 

“Carrying people over the threshold is last century shit. This is more my style.”

 

You could almost  _feel_ the smug grin in his voice as he headed down the hall to your room. You'd deliberately left it off the grand tour, wanting to save it for the end. Once through the door Dean set you carefully down, gesturing in a sweeping motion. “Madame.”

 

You snorted, tousling his hair while he kicked off his sneakers. “Fucking nerd.”

 

“Yeah, but you're stuck with me now.” Dean shed his shirt and pulled you against his chest. “I'm _your_ fucking nerd. Your lunatic, your weirdo, whatever.”

 

“My mate?”

 

Dean made a noise like someone had knocked the wind out of him. “Easy hun, might want to set up a few more rules before you go tossin' terms like that around.”

 

“I probably shouldn't call you 'alpha', right? I mean that's what your dad--”

 

“Yeah please don't _ever_ call me Alpha. I'm more than happy with the title of 'your mate'. I don't need that bullshit on me.” Dean growled, mouthing over your neck. “I've been waiting for you for a really long time. Whether I'm an alpha or not is kind of a non-issue to me now.”

 

“Meeting you kind of made me feel like I was waiting for you too.” you admitted quietly, unbuttoning your shirt. “Like whatever else I had done before was just fooling myself into thinking that I was happy. But then you came along and I was suddenly _really into_ getting text messages and phone calls at weird hours of the night.”

 

Dean laughed. “Kinky, right? I knew you dug that sexy rasp I got after hollering in the ring for three hours.”

 

“No complaints here, Dean! You're a ridiculously attractive guy. I feel very lucky to be your mate.” you said honestly, watching as his face and neck pinked up.

 

“C'mon darlin', it's kind of tough to be a hard ass when you're saying nice shit. You ain't even seen me in action yet.”

 

“If we're supposed to be together, I'm fairly sure we'll be able to satisfy each other.”

 

“Well shit, that's the only vote of confidence _I_ need.” he shrugged, helping you get out of your shirt and then tugging his pants down his legs. 

 

“I remember the third time I saw you, in some promotion I'd never been to. You have _really_ intense eyes, as I'm sure you know.” you said, unzipping your skirt and sliding it off over your hips. “You were fighting this big dude in the ring, doing pretty well from what I recall but then you just...stopped.”

 

“I smelled you for the first time.” Dean said softly. “I knew I had to leave. I was so fucking scared of hurting you.”

 

“And now?”

 

“Now I don't want to even _think_ about not being around you.” he confessed, running a hand down your side to your hip. “Leaving you to head back out on the road is going to be murder.”

 

“Hey, you're tough. We have phones. We'll be okay.” you reasoned, laughing when he picked you up with a whiny ' _nooooo_ ', snuggling his face into your chest. “Like what you see?”

 

“Immensely.” he mumbled, surrendering to his no-doubt intense urge to motorboat your breasts. You squealed and kicked your legs, making him fall backwards onto the bed. Dean chuckled, burying his hands in your hair and tugging you down for another kiss.

 

You whimpered into his mouth and he growled in reply, tugging at the back of your bra. “Get this shit off. I want to see you. Please.”

 

You obeyed the order, flushing at the drawn-out moan that followed. “ _Oh_ , fuck. Yes.” Dean seemed dazed again, clumsily helping you pull down your panties and his boxers until the two of you were finally nude. “ _God_ , you're fuckin' beautiful. My mate. Holy shit. I never thought I'd get to say that to  _anyone_ and yet here you fuckin' are.” Dean's tone was bewildered, his eyes wide in the dim light. “Sitting on top of me, naked as you fuckin' please and waiting for me. Nobody wake me up.”

 

“I'm pretty sure that you-” You paused, sliding your index finger up the bottom of his cock and making him shiver. “-are the one who's waiting for _me_ , right Dean?”

 

“Oh God,” he gasped, “yes, yes yes yes. _Good_.”

 

You smiled down at him. “I think you've waited long enough, though.”

 

“I can wait as long as you need me...to...” Dean's words dissolved in his throat when you carefully lined yourself up and sank down onto his cock. “Oh _shit_.” he choked out, hands gripping your hips tightly and holding you still.

 

On your end you were just trying to keep it together, your hips stuttering in short, frantic little flutters of motion. He just felt so  _good_ inside you, like no one else ever had. Like he was  _right_ . You wondered momentarily whether the mate thing worked both ways. When his grip finally eased, you were off like a shot, rolling your hips against his own with a tenacity you'd never displayed before and crying out his name when he finally started fucking up into you.

 

“God darlin', God fuckin' dammit.” Dean swore, grabbing your hips and forcing you to stay put. “You're too good. Gonna' make me come right now if you don't cool it.”

 

“Roll me over then, and fuck me like you need to. We have all night.” you suggested, panting. “If I'm on top I'm going at my pace, so if you want a breather you have to take it.”

 

“Vicious thing, aren't you.” Dean pulled out, sliding a hand all the way down your back to your ass, which he proceeded to swat lightly. “If you're okay with it I'd really like to fuck you on your back. Take my time with you.”

 

You nodded, moving to lay down. You didn't expect him to lunge for you and drag your hips upwards for him to lick greedily at your pussy. You cried out, whimpering as he lapped at you with long, flat strokes of his tongue. “ _Dean!_ ”

 

Dean moaned against you, finally letting you lay down on your back once you were a shivering, wanton mess. “Had to get you ready.” he explained, voice gone hoarse as he slid his cock back into you. “Had to make sure you're gonna' be taken care of too if I go off a little early.”

 

“Please, Dean--”

 

“I've got you, hun. My mate.” he crooned in your ear, gasping when your pussy clenched around his cock at his words. “ _Christ_.”

 

“You feel so good.” you sighed, hating the way he ducked his head away from your praise. “You feel so good inside me, Dean. So fucking _good_.”

 

“All for you, my mate. Everything that I can give. Everything that you want.” Dean said quietly, brushing your hair away from your face and kissing you while he slammed his hips against yours. “You are my _home_ , my _good_. You're _everything_ that I've been waiting for.”  


“So don't wait anymore, Dean.” You ran your hands over his back, his shoulders, then slipped one hand down to rub at your clit. “Come with me, please?” you begged, smiling up at him reassuringly.

 

He groaned loudly. “You're not being  _fair_ hun you can't--” Dean's words came to an abrupt halt when your orgasm struck, swallowed up in a rumble of contentment while you arched beneath him, pressing your breasts against his chest and clinging to him. “ _Good_ .” he managed to get out, that dazed sound back in his voice. “Oh  _God_ , so fuckin' good.” Dean pressed his forehead to yours, biting his lip. “Where do you want it?” he said through gritted teeth, his whole body shuddering.

 

“Right where you are.” you panted, making his eyes go wide. “I'm your mate, aren't I? And your mate wants you to come.”

 

“ _Oh_ , darlin'.” Dean rasped, pressing a kiss to your jaw and setting a furious pace. His hips crashed against yours, filling you deeply like you'd always needed. It wasn't long before he growled your name and came inside you, panting and shuddering. “ _Fuck_.”

 

You pulled him into a kiss, barely letting him pull out and roll onto his side before you kissed him again. And again. “I can't even believe I have you.” he finally managed to say between your fervent kisses. “After all this time, my mate. My  _mate_ .”

 

“Hopefully I can make good on holding off for so long with this stuff.” Dean said quietly once the two of you were under the covers, your back snuggled against his chest.

 

You smiled to yourself, craning your neck to give him a peck on the cheek. “From what I've seen, I think I have the better half of the deal.”

 

“Nu-uh! No way.” Dean protested, burying his nose in the nape of your neck and sighing happily. “No fuckin' way.”

 


End file.
